


Your Hands

by MaeLovesStories



Series: Lost in Translation [4]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, ZoSan - Freeform, Zoro POV, written first in 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 16:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15199007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeLovesStories/pseuds/MaeLovesStories
Summary: Insomnia doesn’t lead necessarily to gloomy thoughts. Zoro is experiencing it that morning.





	Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I’m not a hundred percent happy with that, but it’s the best I can do. If you spot any mistake or think of a better wording, please tell me and I’ll correct it.

Lying in the large bed in the smallest room of the smallest hotel of their last stopover, Zoro had lost sleep .  He wasn’t used to it, but a little nothing awoke him, and now he was unable to get back to sleep. He stayed still for a long moment, eyes closed, listening to the slow and steady breathing of Sanji, deeply asleep beside him. He was perceiving his warmth, feeling the beating of his heart against his bare chest. Their intertwined legs were exchanging their warmth and Sanji’s hand was weighing on his chest, just above his heart.

Zoro was happy, relaxed and sated, and yet he couldn’t find his sleep. After many minutes that seemed like hours, his lover moved and repositioned himself on his side. Zoro felt the cold assault his skin where Sanji’s body had been and he opened his eye. His companion’s eyelids were still closed.

Slowly, Zoro readjusted his position, seeking one in which he would be comfortable and that would allow him to observe his lover. He settled in the same way as the latter, and rested his head on his folded arm to give him a little height. The glow of the moon, near its full, and the few city lights, were allowing him to see enough.

He loved watching Sanji asleep, because it was the only time his features were completely relaxed. No expression, other than serenity, was visible on his face. He looked so peaceful, so young. Like a fallen angel, or rather like one of those elves who lived in that book that he had read a long time ago, when he was younger. It was the kind of comparison Zoro would be quite unable to do when his lover was awake. Either he was getting angry over nothing and was fighting with him or another of their  _ nakama,  _ or he was having that stupid expression of adoration when he was in the presence of the girls.

But when he was sleeping, he was quite a different man. When he was asleep, and when they were making love too. Zoro liked the idea of being the only one to see him in those moments. The only one to whom Sanji was completely revealing himself. The only one he was giving himself up to, placing his body between his hands for him to make use of at his pleasure. And Zoro was taking great care of this body. He caressed it, massaged it, kissed it. He loved to make it react, flinch, convulse with pleasure. He knew it by heart, but was never tired of rediscovering it again and again. He didn’t let aside any part of it. From the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers.

It embarrassed Sanji sometimes. He didn’t understand what he was finding beautiful in a foot. If he had asked him, Zoro would have told him that it was not just any feet he liked. Only his. Because they were the mouth where the incredible force that was hiding in his legs was pouring.

And he loved his legs just as much. He loved to run his palms over these fine and powerful muscles. He loved to feel them flinch under his touch. To make them waver while they were usually so strong and unwavering.

He could go on like that for hours, detailing every part of his body. But there was one he loved more than anything. It was his hands.

His hands also had power. They were firm and confident when cooking. They were soft and tender when caressing Zoro.

Gently, he took his left hand in his, caressing its back, its fingers. He ran his thumb over the little white lines that dotted them here and there, remnants of old cuts. But apart from these traces, they were soft, well maintained. Quite the opposite of his own, really. Not that he wasn't taking care of them. They were just as important as Sanji’s to fulfil his dream, but the years of sword training had covered them with calluses.

The contrast of their two hands in one another was certainly drastic, but Zoro was finding some hidden beauty there. A white and fine hand in a tanned and wide hand. They were a reflection of what their couple was. Improbable, different, but at the same time obvious and natural. If there was someone destined for him on this earth, then it was Sanji, and he was happy to have found him.

But he left these slightly disturbing thoughts aside and concentrated on the hand he had in front of him. He slowly redrew its outline, barely touching the skin. He felt Sanji move slightly in his sleep, and his breathing becoming less regular. He was waking up.

But he didn’t attach any importance to it and continued his worship. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he placed tender kisses against his palm, then up on the fingers. None was forgotten.

With satisfaction, he saw Sanji's lips half-opening and a slight whine formed in his throat. So he continued, sometimes adding his tongue to his lips, tracing and retracing the curves of that abandoned hand.

While continuing his gestures, he scrutinized his lover’s face. The features became animated, the eyelids twitched. The head turned slightly, making the blond locks fall in a cascade, revealing the face completely. The blue eyes opened, two bright stars in the dark.

“What are you doing?” Sanji asked sleepily.

“Nothing,” Zoro replied, not showing anything of his previous thoughts.

Sometimes he regretted a bit of not being able to say all the words he had in his head. But he didn’t know how Sanji would react if he confessed them one day, so maybe it was better that way.

Slowly, he pressed his lips into the warm palm of his lover before releasing his hand. But instead of taking it back, Sanji brought it closer to his face and stroked his cheek. Zoro flinched slightly at this gesture of incredible gentleness. God he loved that man. He was so perfect.

“You're perfect,” he whispered, echoing his thoughts.

His gaze boring into his, Sanji replied with a tender smile and another caress on his cheek.

In these rare and precious moments, they could say that kind of thing without feeling embarrassed. And with the passing of time, Zoro was surprised to appreciate them more and more. To seek them even. He would have liked to take his lover in his arms whenever his heart wanted to. To kiss him or just hold him tight against him without embarrassment in front of the others.

They knew they would be accepted, their _nakama_ were wonderful people who would not dwell on that. But Sanji was not ready, and Zoro was respecting that. He knew that the day would come. And he was patient.

“Hey,” Sanji whispered, searching his gaze.

He had certainly perceived the little shadow that had crept into it at that thought, so Zoro hurried to make it disappear. He smiled back at him, then leaned over to put chastely his lips on his.

The hand went from his cheek to the back of his neck, and the kiss went on while remaining soft. They were putting all their feelings, all their shared emotions into it. If happiness could take tangible form, then that would be it, their bodies interlaced, their lips joined, and their souls intertwined.


End file.
